


What to Do, What to Do...

by TheRepeat



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Gen, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRepeat/pseuds/TheRepeat
Summary: Two HECU marines have a conversation while lugging around an obnoxiously heavy doctor.
Kudos: 17





	What to Do, What to Do...

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally [uploaded](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13587693/1/What-to-Do-What-to-Do) on Fanfiction.net on May 17, 2020.

“Where are we taking this Freeman guy?”

“Topside, for questionin’.”

“What the hell for? We’ve got him. Let’s kill him now!”

“Uhh… and if they find the body?”

“What body?” Pvt. Grover said, with a chuckle.

Pvt. Packard chuckled a bit too, with a little less heart than his squadmate. Not sure why they were laughing, however, he soon stopped, and returned to frowning. When Grover stopped lifting his side of Dr. Freeman, Packard growled with annoyance and dropped their prey as well. The unconscious Freeman clattered to the floor with a metallic clang.

Packard crossed his arms and scowled at Grover. For the other marine’s part, a strange smirk was plastered to Grover’s face, making him look like a fuckin’ psycho.

“You look like a fuckin’ psycho,” Packard noted deadpan.

Grover’s smirk fell away, revealing a tired, probably whiny expression. Packard nodded; _this_ was what he was used to from the scrawny guy.

“I’m sick of carrying this bastard!” Grover complained. “I’ve only got half of him and he’s _still_ breaking my goddamn shoulder. Why’s he wearing goddamn _metal plating?!”_

“You’ve got less than half, actually,” Packard said. “You’re shorter than me, so I have to carry more.”

“So then you AGREE we shouldn’t carry this fucker up three flights of stairs to get him topside,” Grover continued. “And God’s with us if it’s only _three_ flights.”

Packard shrugged. “If you wanna kill ‘im, you’ve got a gun.”

“Yeah,” Grover said, the smirk returning a little bit. “Y-Yeah!” He unholstered his sidearm and crouched next to the sleeping scientist. “Good night, you heavy bastard!”

Pressing the tip of his Glock against Freeman’s temple must’ve felt nice to Grover, Packard thought. Less nice was when Grover pulled the trigger, which, if jolting the slide back was Grover’s _sole_ objective, would’ve been pretty successful.

“Jam?” Packard asked, while Grover stood.

“Nah, I’ve been out of ammo for a while now. Just thought it’d be satisfying to pretend I could.” Grover nodded at Packard’s hip. “You?”

“I lost my rifle when one of those fuckin’ dog aliens barked at it. Blew the thing apart.” Packard pointed at a cut on his cheek, the blood drying a bit at this point. “Got this from the iron sight.”

“What about your pistol?”

“Sidearm. And it got melted by the damn electric aliens.”

“Galunga.”

“Ga-fuckin’-lunga. Whatever the hell that word means, it’ll be in my nightmares for years.”

Grover gestured at Freeman again. “So what about him, huh?”

“We could break his neck?” Packard offered.

Grover winced. “Hmm… I guess we could give it a shot?”

“Be my guest.”

Grover hesitated for a while. Long enough for Packard to raise an eyebrow. A distant rumble from (hopefully) an airstrike made an amount of dust rain down, almost getting Packard to finally urge Grover to do something, but Grover swiftly crouched over Dr. Freeman and grabbed his head in both hands, lifting the doctor’s chin off the floor.

Another moment passed. Grover’s face was contorted in a grimace, and soon, his hands started to tremble.

Then, he let Freeman’s head fall and leapt to his feet, putting distance between him and their quarry. “Jesus Christ,” Grover muttered, putting his hands atop his head as he paced. “With my bare hands? Naw. Fuck that.”

“Want me to do it?”

“Sure,” Grover panted. “Sure.”

Packard took a step closer to Freeman.

“Nope! Nope, can’t do it.” Grover ducked next to Freeman, finally grabbing his arm again. “Call me a bitch but I’m too squeamish for that shit. Let’s just carry him.”

“We’ve been blowing aliens apart all afternoon,” Packard stated. “This wouldn’t even be bloody.” He glanced away. “Probably.”

“Those are _aliens,_ man! This dude’s killed a bunch of HECU, sure, but he’s still a civilian. I ain’t gonna break some sleeping dude’s neck.” His eyes brightened. “We could, uh, smother him or something! Got a pillow?”

Packard didn’t dignify that with an answer. He took Freeman’s other arm, and he and Grover continued dragging the heavy scientist away.

They had to tackle a flight of stairs. Just one. And after that experience, plus now that Grover had put the thought into his mind, Packard started to realize that yeah, maybe this dumbass scientist was a little too heavy for his own good.

They took another break at the top of the stairs. Grover had to sit down, red in the face and gasping for air, no doubt covered head to toe in sweat. Packard had to lean against the wall himself, though, so he couldn’t judge the younger guy too hard.

“Why do… they want to question him… so bad, anyway?” Grover panted. “I thought the whole goal… was to _kill_ these science team guys. F-For starting a goddamn alien invasion and all.”

“Story goes that he’s killed _dozens_ of HECU. Maybe more, hard to say. They probably wanna ask him ‘how the fuck.’”

“Gotta be the suit,” Grover muttered. “Look at all those dents. Who knows how many times this dude’s been shot.”

“‘Hazardous Environment Suit,’” Packard muttered. “Least _someone_ dressed for the occasion.”

Pouting, Grover stood, a little wobbly. He reached for Freeman again, so Packard went to lift him as well.

They barely went ten feet before Grover dropped the scientist. Packard was fully ready to finally snap at the guy for not doing his goddamn pushups, but he stopped when he realized Grover had dropped Freeman on purpose.

“Dude,” Grover breathed. _“Dude.”_

Packard followed Grover’s eye, and his heart sank at what he saw. A room nearby was adorned with an unmissable sign: “TRASH COMPACTOR”.

“Nooo,” Packard began. “Grover, no.”

“Dude!” Grover was excited, bursting with energy that sure would’ve been useful on that staircase five minutes ago. He turned to Packard, eyes shining with enthusiasm. “Have you ever seen Star Wars?”

Packard’s brow furrowed. “Uh… hm. I’ve seen one.”

Grover’s excitement dimmed slightly. “Wha—just _one?_ WHICH one?”

Packard scratched his head. “My wife dragged me to the… the one with space NASCAR.” He paused. “It sucked.”

“Space NASCAR…? Wait, you mean _podracing?”_ Grover was aghast. “You need to _at least_ see the first three! They’re amazing! And had a huge cultural impact. Honestly, you’d be doing yourself a favor.”

“Nerd.”

“I can’t help it, I get excited about those movies!” Grover said. “I think the last one is supposed to come out in a year or so. Episode 3, Revenge of the Sith.” He sighed. “We already kinda know how it’s gonna end in Episode 3 since it’s a prequel, but I’m still pretty excited to see how shit goes down.”

“Fuckin’ NERD.”

“You’re uncultured, man.” Grover crossed his arms.

Packard frowned. “Just messin’ with you, dude. But you think your space movie is gonna be the same? I mean, we’ve got _real fuckin’ aliens_ here. Sci-fi shit’s gonna be different forever, bet.”

“As if a WORD of these things ever leaves Black Mesa. We’re gonna get mind-wiped, Men in Black style, mark my fuckin’ words bro.”

“You gonna run out of pop culture references anytime soon?”

Grover blinked, as if just realizing how far off topic he was. “Dude! TRASH COMPACTOR! In the first Star Wars movie, the heroes get stuck in a trash compactor for a while and almost get smushed to a paste. That’d be fuckin’ _gnarly_ to watch in person.”

Packard eyed Grover warily. “…But the dudes in Star Wars escape, right?”

“Only because Threepio helps them!”

Packard sighed, knowing he’d regret it but asking anyway. “‘Threepio’?”

Grover mercifully ignored the question. “Just look at this guy, man. We shove this nerd down there in his fifty-ton suit, then he’s stayin’ put. If you think this dude can do a pull-up while wearing all THIS shit, I dunno what to tell you.”

Packard almost had the time to explain why this dumb cartoon plan was dumb and cartoony, but a sound of unearthly voltage echoed from down the hallway, speeding up their need to make a decision. “Fuck—fine!” He and Grover lifted Freeman with extra urgency and dragged him into the trash compactor room.

In the room, they heaved Freeman onto the ledge overlooking the trash compactor—so close that his arm dangled over the edge. As Packard peeked back through the door to see if they were followed, Grover practically shivered in expectation at the grand machinery before him.

“Oh, hell yeah. That’s that GOOD shit.” Grover waved his squadmate over. “Let’s dump this dude, Packard.”

“Sure.”

“Oh hey, this’ll help.” Grover knelt over Freeman and plucked a crowbar from the man’s hip. “I could prolly do this myself now.”

Packard stopped.

After a moment, Grover frowned. “You coming?”

“Naw, I’m just waiting,” Packard said. “You said you could do it yourself.”

“Wha—Fine, I’ll just do it then.”

“Good.”

Grover jammed an end of the crowbar underneath the HEV suit, and after putting his foot on it, he grunted and tried to lift.

Packard raised an eyebrow. “Very good, very good.”

“ _‘Very good’_ my fuckin’ ass, come HELP me!”

Packard took two steps closer, planted his boot on Freeman’s shoulder, and pushed the scientist over the edge.

Grover fell back, exhausted. “That… only worked… because of me.” He stood up, gesturing with the crowbar. “This thing’s heavier than I thought, too. It’d be satisfying as hell to bash some alien skulls with this.” He grinned. “Ey, Packard. Do I look cool?” He stood in a slightly more actiony pose, holding the crowbar high.

Packard rubbed his chin. After a moment of thought, he pointed at the crowbar. “Did he have that the whole time?”

“I, uh… think so?”

“Why didn’t we beat Freeman to death with that?”

Grover’s eyebrows furrowed, and soon, his smile fell. “…I—but… I look cool, though. Right?”

“You look like a redneck chasing kids off his property.”

“Is that good?”

Packard stared at Grover for a while.

Grover sweated.

“…We oughta go.” Packard turned to the door and gently nudged it open. “No telling when aliens are gonna show back up.” On seeing the coast was clear, he held it open for his buddy.

“Dammit, I wanted to watch.” Grover finally gave up the pose and tossed the crowbar aside. “Whatever. I’m sick of all this alien shit. I just want to go back to being excited for Episode 3.”

Packard shook his head. “Dude, you’ll be lucky if you’re still _alive_ by the time Episode 3 comes out.”

“Don’t even say that, man.” He went through the door first. “Gives me the fuckin’ chills.”

Packard glanced down into the trash compactor. After a silent stare at Freeman’s sleeping body—still unmissable amongst all the trash thanks to that obnoxious orange color—he turned away, closing the door behind him (and wedging it shut for good measure).

“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Packard muttered. “If we get out of THIS alive, I’ll buy you the fuckin’ tickets.”

“Really?!”

“Do NOT give me that look. It’s not that exciting. Fuckin’ nerd.”

-END-


End file.
